


The Contest Winner

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, RPF, fake whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: This is a piece of foolishness written for M_E_Lover! Michael Emerson's number one fan and the most supportive reader of fan fiction, ever.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M_E_Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/gifts).



> I don't have what it takes to write whump but I had a big desire to please someone who loves it!

“Just hold on another few seconds, sweetie. Okay, you’re good,” Carrie said. She checked the last bit she’d recorded on her phone. She smiled at the footage she’d captured of her husband in all his bruised and bloodied glory.

“Let me help you with those,” Jim said, springing the clips on the fake ankle cuffs and pulling the plastic chains free of the bed frame.

Michael sat up in the mess of the rumpled sheets, streaked with fake blood spatter. He groaned a little as he moved, a little stiff from lying down so long, trying not to move body parts that were supposed to be broken. “Thanks.”

“I think that one should do it,” Jim said.

“I guarantee you, boys, you’ll be making her very happy. All that’s left to do is dub in a little bit of dialogue, the moans and groans. We’ll get some good effects for the impact torture, so we can hear the whip crack, the bones breaking. Some music.”

“You say that with such … relish,” Michael said, a little disheartened by how much his wife was enjoying her directorial debut. She was taking it very seriously even if her medium was an iphone. “Exactly whose idea was this contest?” he asked, looking pointedly at his tall and relatively unscathed co-star.

Somehow Jim had gotten away with hardly more than a cameo, some make-up smudged under his eyes to make him look tired and desperate before he got shot. His white shirt was decoratively drenched in a brighter blood mix than they’d painted on Michael who was supposed to have undergone days of torture. His painstaking make up required caked blood as well as fresh squirts.

“Don’t look at me, they’re your fans and it’s your wife who came up with the contest.”

“And it was awesome!” Carrie insisted. “My brilliant husband has the world’s most creative and loyal fans. Who could have known the winner’s dream video would feature you being tortured and beaten?”

“You don’t have to look so happy about it,” he grumbled, standing up, frowning down at his purpled naked legs sticking out of the blood-stained boxers. Whip lash welts scored his thighs. He looked up at Jim who had a foolish kind of grin on his face.

“Sorry,” he said, not trying too hard to suppress it.

Michael looked around for the youngster they’d gotten to play his tormentor. He’d been nervous at first about even pretending to hurt him, but had warmed to the role over the couple hours of filming.

“He’s already taken off. Some kid named Daniels. I think he might be Nolan’s nephew.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Michael sighed, the whole Nolan clan seemed bent on making him limp and suffer. Jim shot him a sympathetic look.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and go for a beer.”

Michael followed him, a piece of plastic chain still swinging from his fake wrist cuff.

“Does it have to beer?” he asked.


End file.
